DA Revelations Episode 3: Home
by AngelExposed
Summary: Bobby discovers the truth about Rogue's feelings for Remy, and Kitty begins to feel concern for Jessie. R&R please
1. Chapter 1 Hurt

**DISMAL ANGEL REVELATIONS**

**Episode 3: Home**

**Chapter 1: Hurt**

Rogue stared horrified across the Hospital Wing to where Bobby Drake was standing. The man could control the moisture in the air, turn it into frost and ice...but nothing his powers could cause could ever be colder than the look he was giving her. The room dropped several degrees in temperature, and Rogue saw her breath mist against the air.

Professor Xavier, Jean Grey and Hank McCoy – all of who were standing with her in the hospital wing beside Remy's bed, exchanged glances with each other; the tension in the air was thick – so thick even Logan's adamantium claws probably wouldn't have even been able to cut through it.

"Bobby...I..." she began, her voice still full of emotion from the tears she'd shed when she'd thought Remy to be lost to her forever.

He didn't give her time to finish, he spun around and went through the doors.

"Shit..." Rogue uttered, she took off running after him. "Bobby, wait!"

Bobby stopped in the hall, he swung around to look at her, "I knew it, I fucking knew it, Rogue," he snarled.

"What did you know?" she asked timidly.

"I knew the moment he set foot in this place again you were gonna go running back to him and start fawning over him again like a sad little groupie!"

She folded her arms, looking away from him, "It's not that easy to turn my back on it when he's here, Bobby," she confessed sadly, "I have a history with him."

"Oh I know you do, this whole mansion knows you have a history with Gambit, Rogue," he said, "the fights you two have have had all over this goddamn place are legendary. The tragedy, the screaming, the coming and going, the crying and depression. You think I don't know you have a history with that useless lump in there?"

"He's not useless."

"That's just_ your_ opinion," Bobby uttered, the disdain in his voice was wicked, he didn't sound like himself anymore, but like someone else, a lover scorned, a person betrayed.

"I can't help loving who I love, Bobby. Anymore than you can," she pointed out.

"So what has this whole relationship been to you? A joke?" he demanded.

"Of course not!" Rogue defended.

"I've spent six months trying to connect with you, being there for you, listening to your problems...what was I? Just a substitute for him? Just someone to be there for you until the ragin' cajun decided to return?"

"Don't be stupid," Rogue rolled her eyes at him.

"That's just it, I don't think I _am_ being stupid. I think my reaction is perfectly warranted considering what I just God damn saw."

Rogue leaned against the wall, she didn't know what else to say to him.

"So what's next, Rogue? Picking up where you left off until the next big thing he does ticks you off and he picks up and leaves you again?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "He's...he's the love of my life, Bobby...and he always will be. I can't change that. If I could pick up and walk away from him and just not feel anything for him, I would – but it's not that easy."

"All he is, Rogue, is a habit. And habits can be broken, all you have to do is ween yourself away from him..."

"Like I said, it's not that easy," Rogue said, she frustratedly ran a hand through her hair.

"Why? What makes it so God damn hard, Rogue?"

She paused, "it's like...being near him is being complete."

"Bullshit," Bobby said, "this is about lust and want, not love and completeness," he spat, "and the sooner you realise being with him is going to take you down like a lion takes down an antelope, the sooner you can ditch his useless waster ass and get over him."

There was a long silence between them, Bobby paced back and forth between the walls, which were beginning to frost up. "I spent six months trying to make things better for you, trying to be what you needed, you've never given me a chance," he uttered finally.

"I'm sorry," Rogue said softly, "I don't know what else to say to you," she added, and she didn't. She knew she couldn't fix it, she knew whatever relationship they had was over and their friendship was probably too far gone now to recover from this. There was nothing that could be said to make anything any better.

"I just wanna know what it is about him, why he has this...this stupid hold on you..."

Rogue leaned back against the wall, "I don't know what it is about him," she admitted, "he's infuriating, full of himself, and he drives me crazy...but...when I look at him...when I'm near him..."

Bobby frowned.

"There's no explanation for it, Bobby...I just...feel so much for him that it shadows everything else in my life...even you..." she looked at him, her eyes softening. "I wish deep in my heart that I could feel that way for you...it'd make life so uncomplicated and safe and wonderful..." she moved over to him, he stood, watching her, his eyes cold, but full of emotion. She reached up and touched her face with her gloved hand, "I know if I could love you my life would be happy, that you'd never hurt me, never make me cry..." she stroked his cheek, "but I can't."

He looked away from her, his mouth tight.

"I love you, Bobby...but I'm not _in_ love with you. I think I was fooling myself that I ever could try to love anyone else but him...it's not you, Bobby, it's me, and you know that..."

Bobby swallowed, "so this is over then..." his blue eyes were glassy, but she could see no tears would be shed for her. There was far too much anger for that.

She gave a soft nod, "I'm so sorry..." she tenderly said, she brushed her thumb over her cheek, hoping that small intimacy, that small attempt at comfort, would be enough to still the anger she could see burning in his cold blue eyes.

"Don't, okay, just don't," he pushed her away from him and turned, "just don't talk to me again," he uttered icily and he began to walk way, tendrils of frost creeping along the walls as he did.

She sighed, seeing her breath misting against the icy air as she watched him walking away from her. _ I never wanted for him to get hurt,_ she thought sadly.

"He'll forgive you – eventually. You know Bobby, he's a hothead, but he always calms down after a while," came a voice near her back, she turned to see Jean standing there, Jean had overheard the whole thing from the Hospital wing since their voices had been so loud.

"I doubt he's going to forgive me for this," Rogue lamented, "I don't blame him for being angry. I...I guess I did betray him...I just wish we could have left it on better terms – I wish I'd had time to explain things to him before he caught me saying what I did to Remy...it might have made things so much easier for him – for us both."

"I doubt he'd take it calmly no matter how early he was warned about the situation," Jean tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear, "but he'll simmer down, and he'll move on."

"I hope so."

"What now for you?"

"I don't know," Rogue answered honestly, "baby steps, I guess."

Jean gave a nod, "a wise decision. We don't want to see you hurt again," she touched Rogue's shoulder comfortingly.

Rogue sighed once again, "Being hurt is just part of being in love."

Kitty was clearing away the breakfast dishes in the kitchen that following morning – the one task that everyone in the mansion didn't seem to mind her doing despite her pregnancy. The kitchen was quiet apart from the low hum of the radio, Elton John's 'Rocket Man' was softly was softly drifting over the room. Kitty glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen table where six year old Jessie Crowell was kneeling on a chair leaning over a crayon drawing of what looked like the mansion.

Kitty felt a rush of love for the small girl who had been orphaned since the age of two and had lived most of her life in an orphanage where she'd been outcast because of her mutant abilities. The girl had long tawny blonde hair that was straight, but tousled at the ends so that it almost curled but not quite. She had large blue-grey eyes that reminded Kitty of horizon storms, and a peaches and cream complexion.

Leaving the sink and wiping her wet hands off on a dishcloth, Kitty moved over to the table, "whatcha drawin'?" she asked in a childish voice. Jessie loved it when she used that voice, maybe because for a moment she could pretend that Kitty was her age.

"The mansion," Jessie smiled and turned the picture towards Kitty, "whatcha think?"

Kitty smiled too, "it's very nice..." she had to admit the six year old had some artistic talent, the colours were vivid and perfect, even in the crude childish way they were carelessly scribbled over the lines. "You're a very good drawer."

Jessie grinned her impish grin, she took a new sheet of paper out and started to draw a large oval, "I'm going to draw you now," she said.

"Oooh," Kitty beamed, "can I be a princess?" she slipped into a chair and watched her drawing.

The girl giggled, "okay."

"You'll make me pretty, right?" Kitty asked.

"Duh," said Jessie, "You're already pretty," she pointed out.

"I don't feel it today," Kitty admitted, perhaps in a very adult way that she was sure might have been a little too much to confess to the six year old girl.

Jessie looked at her, "why?"

"Look at me, kid, I'm big as a house, I look like a beachball on legs," she smirked.

"When are you going to have the baby?" Jessie asked, sounding very adult about it.

"In two and a half weeks," Kitty answered.

"When you do, can I hold it?"

"Maybe," Kitty smiled, "we'll see."

Jessie went back to drawing, "when it's Christmas, will I have to go back to the orphanage?" she asked suddenly, sounding very distressed, she didn't look at Kitty, but instead picked up a brown crayon to draw in lines of brown hair.

This question threw Kitty off guard, "No...why would you ask such a thing?"

"All the other kids are talking about going home for Christmas..." Jessie dropped the brown crayon and picked up a pink one to draw lips on the large white oval, "they say everyone has to go home for Christmas...and the orphanage is my home..." Jessie pointed out, her voice tiny.

"No...no no no," Kitty stopped her from drawing, "Look at me, Jessie," she said firmly.

Jessie raised her large stormy blue eyes to Kitty's, her lip pouting, feeling as if she might have done or said something terribly wrong.

"You _are _home. _This _is your home, kiddo. You're _never_ going back to that orphanage, you hear me? _Never,"_ Kitty promised. She almost felt like crying to think that Jessie had worried so much she'd be sent back there, back where no one cared because of her mutant abilities.

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	2. Chapter 2 Lucky Man

**Chapter 2 – Lucky Man**

"You're a lucky man," Hank McCoy said to Remy. "That laser should have blown a hole clear through you," he was in the process of gently removing the dressing he had placed upon the wound to clean the wound, check it and reapply a new dressing in it's place.

Remy winced, sucking in a deep breath, "hurts."

"I wouldn't doubt it. There's muscle and tendon damage – some veins were damaged – cauterized instantly by the blast. If it weren't for the chest plate you were wearing, you might have not survived."

"My nerves feel...raw."

"You may be suffering from a new sensation of pain – especially if your psyche felt nothing while it was detached from your body."

"So...you're saying...what?"

"In a way, it may have rebooted your perception of pain and of feeling...it might have rebooted all of your senses..."

"I guess that explains why the clinical type smell in here so much stronger than I ever noticed before...and why my skin has been tingling nonstop."

"You'll grow accustomed to it again," Hank assured.

Remy looked down at the wound, it wasn't excessively large, but there was plenty of damage, it appeared like a lot of muscle had been blown away. He didn't like the thought of how ugly the scar was going to look.

"Don't worry, when this has healed enough you can go to Muir Island for re-constructive treatment – I believe they're doing marvellous things there with technology discovered from dissecting one of your clones," Hank smirked. "Tissue re-generation. Fascinating technology."

At the slight touch of a swab near the very edges of the burn, "Oh fuck," he hissed.

"I'm sorry this is so painful. I can give you something strong for the pain, but it will make you sleepy..."

"Anything, Hank, just get it and give me it..."

"Hank, I stole another sweater from your room, I hope you don't mind..." came a voice from behind Hank, Kitty waddled in, her huge belly protruding in front of her. She was wearing an oversized grey sweater, which the sleeves had been rolled up on so she could use her hands.

"That's fine, my clothes are your clothes, until you can fit into anything you own again," Hank said fondly.

"Oh my God..." Kitty rushed over to Remy to examine the wound, "your...your chest is missing..." she whispered.

"Just a piece of it," Hank corrected, he visited the metal cabinet with all the drugs and painkillers and came back with a disposable hypodermic and the same bottle of whatever had been injected the night before.

"Feels a lot worse than it looks," Remy tried to breathe, the needle slid into his vein soon, and a rush of vague dizzy release began to overtake him. "C'mere," he said softly to Kitty.

Kitty moved closer, Hank stayed at the other side of Remy, attending to the chest wound. She watched Remy raise a hand and place it to her belly.

"You got so big," Remy said, the fast effects of the sedative already taking him down.

"I feel like a beachball with leg," she said with a pout.

"You look radiant."

Kitty put her hands on his and held them there to her stomach as the child inside her kicked in response to their touch, "feel the kicking?"

"Yeah, think you gonna give birth to the next Karati Kid," he smirked.

"I'm glad you're back," she said softly to him, "I'm really gonna need a babysitter in a couple of weeks," she joked, she watched his pupils dilating under the effects of the painkillers, how strange it seemed to look into his eyes when they were almost totally black. It was almost like watching him slipping away.

Remy gave a soft laugh, barely audible, "who you gonna get to babysit me?"

"We'll find someone," she said.

Remy closed his eyes, his hand slid from beneath hers and dropped down hanging over the side of the bed.

Hank pried one of Remy's eyes open and flashed a small light in, "he's out for the count."

Kitty sat on the edge of the bed, "will that wound heal?"

"To a certain extent, he can have re-constructive treatment to help the tissue regenerate. But it'll take patience and a lot of time to heal it," he said as he began to go around checking the wound for any infection.

"I'm worried about Jessie," Kitty said quietly.

"What's wrong?" Hank asked.

"She's been with us...what...six months? She's not connecting with any of the other kids, and spends most of her time alone...letting herself get more and more isolated. And she's scared – terrified in fact – that we're going to send her back to that place she came from."

"Did you talk to the professor about this?"

"No," Kitty answered. "I just...I want to know what you think about...maybe uniting Remy and Jessie and letting them both know what their relationship really is?"

"Why so urgently?"

"Because having a parent would change her life, Hank, and having Jessie in Remy's life would give him some purpose maybe? I don't know, I can think of so many reasons why we should let them both know..."

"They're going to find out eventually, I just don't think in this condition Remy is prepared to know he has a daughter just yet. Let him recover a little, and give Jessie more time to adjust would be my opinion."

"So you don't think it's his right to know he has a kid in this mansion that he never knew about..."

"Of course he has a right to know, but...he also needs time to adjust to being back before we spring any big surprises on him. At least give him time to settle before we try to explain it to him..."

This didn't sit well with Kitty, the thought of keeping this from him even longer was frustrating – she hadn't been able to tell him when they'd found out of Jessie's origins because he'd already gone. Now, she had this secret burning on her tongue, a secret that could give Remy another reason to live other than being there only to be with Rogue.

"This news...would be hard to explain to a six year old," Hank said, looking at Kitty sternly, "You're talking about telling her the people she thought were her true parents – the Crowells – were never her real parents. We have no explanation as to how she ended up in their care in Chicago. All we know is they died through a tragic car accident and she has spent most of her life mourning through. This is too much for the girl, don't you think?"

"Hank," Kitty said quietly, "if you had no mom or dad...and had spent four years having no one, wouldn't you want to know that there was someone else out there for you who was going to be the one to look after you, that there might just _be _a happy ending in a world where there's rarely ever a happy ending?"

He paused, "perhaps – but I'd want to be old enough to understand the dynamics of it, at least. She needs time, and so does he. I'm not the only one who agreed with this opinion – the professor thinks it would be safer for the moment for both of them that they remain in the dark about their relationship."

"But," Kitty tried.

"No 'buts' about it, Kitty. Lets give Remy time – then after he has settled, we can slowly ease him into what we know."

"Fine. Keep it a secret," Kitty rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3 Take it Off

**Chapter 3 – Take it off**

When he awakened he felt as if he hadn't slept at all, and through the hours of being out like a light he still felt incredibly sleepy and heavy as if another seven or eight hours might be necessary to leave him feeling as if he were in the land of the living again.

It took Remy several moments to find the strength to open his eyes, and even when he did, the light in the hospital wing was so bright he had to squeeze them shut quickly, he let out a groan. "Jesus that light needs to be dimmed..." he muttered.

A moment later, the lights above him dimmed, "how's that?" he heard Rogue's soft husky voice.

"Better," he sighed, it was a shame being awake meant being in pain. He wondered how long this pain was going to last, how long it would take to heal that wound. Although he kept his eyes closed, the light dimming made him feel more comfortable.

"How do you feel?" Rogue asked softly

"Not much better than before," he sighed, his voice flat and listless.

Rogue paused, he heard her shift, "do you want me to leave so you can get more rest?" she asked.

He opened his eyes a little, finding her in his bleary vision; he snatched her wrist, "no...don't go..." he pleaded, he let go of her wrist gently, realising he might have come across as too desperate.

Rogue sat down on the edge of the bed, "you had us all worried for a minute there," she confessed, referring to the night before.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't know why you should feel sorry, Remy. Wasn't your fault you nearly got killed and you...ended up some kinda ghost..."

"I just mean that..." He closed his eyes again, weary and weak, "I'm sorry that you shed tears over me."

Rogue got up and paced a little.

"You thinkin' on goin' back on what you said?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You told me you didn't want me back...in Vegas," Remy tried to stretch a little and get comfortable. Stretching only hurt and he let out a groan.

"Try not to move too much," Rogue pleaded.

"Was I dreamin'?"

"Hmmm?" she asked, she adjusted his pillows a little for him to help him get more comfortable.

"What you said..." he sighed, "about lovin' me."

Rogue sighed, "you weren't dreamin'," she assured.

"But?" he asked, hearing it coming in her tone of voice.

"But things just all aren't peachy Remy, and you know that. Maybe we _can_ be together. I don't know. If we are, I'm not sure it will ever be the _same_ as it was."

"You're willing to give me another chance, though?" he asked softly, his voice dry.

Rogue poured him some water from the pitcher by the bed, "here, drink this," she offered.

"You're not answerin' my question," he stopped her hand.

She faltered, "lets...spend some time together before trying to rekindle things...?" she asked, "I...just broke up with someone..."

"Yeah. Asschunk Bobby Drake," Remy uttered.

Rogue made a face, "be nice."  
"Why should I? He's said things about me – I heard some of 'em. Sure he's said a lot worse, too," Remy mumbled. "Sure he's poisoned your mind about me since the minute I left."

"He thinks you're bad for me," Rogue admitted with a worried frown.

"I am," he sighed, "really."

"I know," Rogue smoothed his hair away from his cheek, then ran the backs of her gloved fingers across his cheek, she traced his jaw, heard the soft scrape of his stubble against the smooth leather, "but you know me, I like the bad ones," she joked, a soft laugh lightened her voice.

He sighed contentedly for a moment; her touch, even with leather gloves, was the only touch that made him feel as if he were home, being welcomed with open arms. It had always been that way. Where she touched his cheek, he felt a pressure building just below the surface of his skin, a strange tingling pressure that reminded him vaguely of the numbness after a visit to the dentist.

He was hit with an onslaught of memories of a shared kiss before their relationship went once again pear-shaped, unsure why it came to him so suddenly – and so vividly.

"Chere..." he whispered.

"Yes, Remy?"

"Take the glove off..."

"What?"

"The glove...take it off..." he said, this time firmer, more of an order than request.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" she asked, her voice changing from tender to disturbed, perhaps even angry.

"Please."

"No!"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes...and...no," she answered, "Remy...you're barely alive right now, and barely recovering, I don't want to kill you," she pulled away from him and stepped away from the bed. "Get some rest, we can talk later."

He let her go for the time being, she wouldn't understand yet, and didn't seem to remember the kiss they'd shared that hadn't killed him when, with absolute certainty, he knew it should have.

Jessie Crowell was in the mansion library trying to find any kind of book that wasn't a thick leather bound tome of picture-less boredom. It seemed almost impossible to have a room full of so many books and none of them seemed to be for children. Along the shelves she passed, running her fingers across dark green and brown leather spines with golden titles she could barely read or understand.

She wondered if there was anyone in the mansion who had read every book ever written. How many books in the world had there been written, she wondered as she picked out a large thick heavy book that looked interesting. She opened it, the words tiny, unreadable for her six year old eyes.

Miss. Pryde had bought her books, of course, but she'd read them all so many times that they no longer held any real magic over her. The pictures gazed upon a hundred times, the words glued to her memory.

Maybe this library was just for bigger people, she decided. For the people who could read words longer than five letters, and who could reach the fourth shelf and upwards. People who didn't need colourful cartoonish illustrations to capture their imaginations.

_ I wish I was bigger, like them, like the other kids,_ she thought. She heard them at the breakfast table, discussing movies she was too young to see, television shows she'd never heard of, books she'd never read. And their mutant powers – the powers they understood. Jessie wished she were their age, so that she could fit in, talk about the things they did. To be part of that world...to just fit in...

She felt somewhat betrayed in a way. Miss. Pryde had promised her she _would_ fit in here. Being with others like her, she was supposed to fit in just like all the others did. _Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I don't try enough,_ Jessie thought in a very adult way, because although for her small size and young age, she'd grown wiser in the head than the other kids in the orphanage had.

"That's a boring book," came a voice near her back.

She jumped, and dropped the heavy tomb. It made a thud on the wooden floor, a little dust puffing into the air as it did so. She gasped and spun around. A man she didn't recognise was standing there. She felt as if she should recognise him, she was sure she might have seen a photograph of him somewhere in the mansion, but in person she had no real experience of that she could remember

He had long brown hair that fell to just above his shoulders, silky tendrils fell in front of black and red eyes that frightened her to stare at. "I'm sorry," she said quickly.

Of course sorry was supposed to be her first response, because she was meant to be sitting at one of the tables in the library trying to do the maths puzzles Miss. Pryde had left her to do while she went for a short nap. She wasn't meant to be looking through books.

"For what?" the man knelt down slowly as if he found it difficult to move, and he picked up the book she'd dropped carelessly in fright.

"Uhm...I'm supposed to do math...please don't tell Miss. Pryde."

"Saw her sleepin' on the couch, she not gonna know," the man promised, he stood slowly, wincing as if he were in pain.

Beneath the hooded top he was wearing, through a zip that was only just above his stomach, Jessie could see white gauze and realised he'd had some kind of injury. She wondered if he was the person she'd heard people whispering about who was in the Hospital Wing.

She looked down at her shoes – Barbie sneakers the Professor had bought her on a shopping trip two days after she'd arrived in Bayville. They were her favourite shoes and she looked at them often and admired the pink laces whenever she felt nervous.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, huh?" the man asked, gesturing to the book, "hardly reading material for...uhm...how old are you?"

"Six...nearly seven."

He looked at her, taking in her from head to toe, "six year olds don't need to be readin' scary books, hmm?" he put the book back in the only empty slot on the shelf near the floor.

"Don't tell Miss. Pryde," Jessie pleaded. She didn't like to think she'd be reprimanded for not doing as he'd been told.

"I won't, I promise," he crossed his heart, then made a face, clenching his teeth.

"Miss. Pryde says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," Jessie admitted suddenly, looking up at the tall man. She felt uneasy being so near a man she'd never met before – not quite afraid, he didn't quite emanate anything particularly threatening.

"That's very good advice you know," the man reached up to a higher shelf and picked out a book after a few moments, "I wouldn't speak to me either. I must look pretty scary, right? With these eyes."

She didn't want to admit they did make her uneasy, "there are lots of scary looking people here, but...they're very nice," she confessed, trying to desperately be nice and not hurt his feelings.

"What's your name?" he asked of her.

"Jessie," she answered, looking away from him.

"Is that short for Jessica?"

"It's short for Jasmine," she answered, "but everyone calls me Jessie."

"Jasmine is a very pretty name...and so is Jessie," he confessed. He seemed slightly uneasy too, as if he were very unfamiliar with talking to children.

"What's your name?" she asked, she clasped her hands together and wrung them absently, twisting her feet into the dark wooden boards.

"Remy," he said, he paused and reached out a hand to her.

She chewed her lip and put her hand in his after a moment of hesitation, his hand was warm and there was nothing threatening about it, just like there seemed to be nothing threatening about him. If he was in the mansion, surely he couldn't be a bad person. The professor didn't let bad people stay in the mansion, she knew that.

When he let go of her hand, he held the book towards her, "this is kinda for kids – it has some pictures in it too," he offered it.

She took it from him, the title in large gold letters read 'The Hobbit'. She was unfamiliar with the story.

"Don't forget to do those maths," he reminded, he picked a book from a middle shelf and then left the room without another word.


	4. Chapter 4 Reminders

**Chapter 4 – Reminders**

Kitty Pride was still tired later that night despite a nap. Her body craved the caffeine she'd been denied for months – decaf wasn't doing anything for her. After a hot shower, she slipped on a stolen t-shirt from Hank's closet – it serving quite nicely as a large oversized nightgown – and pulled on her robe and closed it as best she could. She sighed and went into her bedroom, back aching and unable to even see her feet to step into her slippers without having to feel her way around the floor with her toes.

Pregnancy sucked, she decided. She knew women like Jean Grey for example would probably be enjoying ever second of being pregnant, but she was sick of the backache, the constant kicking from inside of her, the baby pressing so hard into her bladder that she needed to pee every ten minutes and not being able to fit into any of her clothes. She hated the heartburn, the leg cramps, and even the sexual frustration.

She sat down on the bed and placed her hand on her stomach, "kid, you better get out of there soon before I yank you out myself, I can't take much more of you kick boxing in there," she despaired at the unborn.

There was a knock at her bedroom door and she got up slowly to open it. There was no one there, she frowned, one of the kids perhaps playing tricks she decided.

She closed the door once again only to hear a loud knock the second it was closed. She grabbed the handle, twisted quickly and opened it, again, no one there.

The smell of sulphur was light in the air, as if someone had lit a match. She sniffed the familiar smell. "Kurt?"

She heard a soft laugh at her back after a soft puffing noise. Kurt Wagner was there, looking smug and pleased to see her.

He'd been gone a while, taking a sabbatical from the X-Men to spend time with another mutant team on Muir Island. She couldn't help but feel responsible – their relationship had crumbled during the first months of her pregnancy and shortly after Remy had left with Psylocke, Kurt had left too but whether she had been the cause of his leaving or not he had never really let on. It had been lonely – extremely lonely – which is why she'd spent most of the last six months in the company of Jessie Crowell.

"Kurt...oh my god!" Kitty beamed and rushed to his arms. The pleased look on his face meant he was happy to be back, and no longer bitter with her at least. Something to be glad of. She hugged him tightly, enjoying the soft brush of his silky fur against her cheek, and the lean muscle beneath her arms. "It's been too damn long."

He agreed, "I know. Look at you, you're as big as a car..." he moved back to look at her, "you're like a wrecking ball! I bet you could do some damage if we hung you from a chain!"

"Don't even kid about that," Kitty pretend pouted, "it's so good to see you...how long have you been back?"

"Ten minutes," he grinned, "I couldn't stand Muir Island winter – it's too windy and I don't like to be cooped up inside the facility too long," he explained, "so I headed on back here, where the winters are cold but not windy enough to tear the clothes right off your body..."

Kitty smirked, "are you back to stay?"

Kurt shrugged, "I'm unsure, as of yet. We'll see," he admitted. He stared at her stomach. "How is the baby?"

"It's David Beckham in the making, possibly," Kitty sighed, "kicks me nonstop – it wants out and I wish I could just comply. I'd love to be able to get into my jeans again. And I forgot what my feet look like."

Kurt looked at her feet which were still slipper-less. "Uhm...they're swollen...a little."

"Yeah, they do that..." she muttered, "my ankles, my feet..."

She sat on the bed awkwardly. "So apart from the weather, how is Muir Island?"

"They're discovering some extraordinary things thanks to the technology of the clones of Gambit. Tissue regeneration of all things – this could be a breakthrough for people with excessive scar-tissue. It's still in the testing stages..."

"Yeah, I think they're hoping Remy will guinea pig for them," Kitty nodded, "He has a pretty nasty laser wound."

"I heard," Kurt admitted, "Moira spoke of it to me only yesterday night."

"And how are you?" Kitty asked quietly.

"I'm good," he said, he looked at her meaningfully, "and you?"

"I'm great, apart from being big as a house, needing to pee and having boobs the size of melons," she gestured to herself. "In two and a half weeks I get to start spending sleepless nights breastfeeding and listening to crying – that'll be a nice change of pace," she gave a wry smile.

"With everyone here in the mansion, I doubt you will need to go through all of this alone," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah, they'll wanna hold the kid and help bathe it and all that stuff – but when it craps you won't see them for dust," she giggled.

Kurt sat beside her, "I can stay to help...if you like. At least a little if you need me."

Kitty looked at him, "I miss you, Kurt. It's like...lonely here without you, without all the little jokes you used to make, without us hanging out at the movies after a long day of training sessions."

"I miss you too," Kurt admitted, he looked down to the ground, he met her eyes, "I always miss you."

"I bet you've hardly thought about me in months," Kitty rolled her eyes. "All those Scottish girls over there, all that stereotypical red hair and emerald green eyes and milky white skin..."

"You sound jealous," Kurt teased.

Kitty stood up and moved over to the window, he was right. She _did _sound jealous. She wasn't sure why because up until his stepping through the door she hadn't given his interest in other women a second thought. It was none of her business anymore, they were just friends, after all. "Can you blame me? I'm hideous right now. I'm fat and and swollen and puffy and tired and I'm aching all over. Not exactly pin-up material."

"You look beautiful," Kurt said, with no faltering. She heard him shift behind her and felt his arms wrap around her from behind, and it felt like sliding into a warm bath, or between the warm sheets of bed on a cold night – like falling into the most comfortable relaxing place in the world.

She closed her eyes, she felt the fur on his cheek brush against her ear and her mind flooded with the memories of being with him, having him again. She wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road again, but right at that moment, it was nice to even briefly relive it.

"Maybe we shouldn't," she tried to wriggle out of his arms, finally coming to her senses. She turned around to look at him, "it's not that...I'mnot _grateful_ for you being here, because I _am,"_ she said softly, she stared into his tawny eyes, "but...I mean...I don't wanna ruin things...y'know?"

"Okay," Kurt said, giving in, perhaps a lot sooner than he might have months ago.

_Wow...why is it that bothers me​​?_ She wondered, not quite understanding how he could let go so quickly of the idea of getting back together. He'd always been persistent before, never giving up. Suddenly she felt like she'd just been dropped like a ton of bricks.

"Just like that...you're giving up?" she raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Just like that?"

"You want me to continue begging you to come back to me?" he asked, "get on my knees and grovel?"

"No it's just..." she paused, "I don't know, like normally...you don't just let it go that fast..."

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "I've had time to think. If you don't want to be with me, I can accept it. We'll always still be friends, and that's good enough for me."

She chewed the inside of her cheek, "okay..." she nodded, she pretended to be fine with this despite feeling somewhat inexplicably dejected.

"You're angry?" Kurt asked, trying to read her expression.

"No, just...I don't know, pregnancy is messing with my head. So...tell me all about the missions you've been on in the UK."

When Remy LeBeau slipped into Rogue's bedroom expertly unheard, he found her stretched across the bed in a short nightgown. She was sleeping draped over the covers, a book dangling from her fingers as her hand hung slightly off the mattress. Remy crept over quietly, trying to not move his torso too much to avoid causing his wound anymore pain.

Hank had already caught him roaming around the mansion once. _"No one should be wandering around after being blasted with a laser like you have",_ had said Hank before sending him back to the hospital wing.

Remy didn't want to be in there anymore though, and he definitely didn't want to be sedated anymore even if it meant being in more pain. Sometimes barely moving caused him so much pain his eyes filled with involuntary tears of agony. He withheld them now, and tried to focus on other things.

He moved around the bed slowly, creeping with catlike grace making no sound. He slipped the book from between her fingers, and looked at it; V.C. Andrews 'Petals in the Wind', he was unsure what the story was of, but the title itself he considered to be corny, and the cover of the book seemed to suggest some kind of romance novel or similar. He put it on her nightstand and sat upon the bed, remaining there to watch her sleep. He tried to take his eyes away from her long bare tan legs, her delicate feet and the painted pink toenails which shimmered in the soft light from the lamp.

Drawing a breath through his teeth as he awkwardly raised his arm and felt the pain in his wound, he raised his hand above her bare thigh and moved it down a little, fingers hanging a centimetre away from her flesh, so close he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

_If only,_ he thought, bare fingers poised so close to the silky bronze flesh, he drew his fingers back, knowing it was wrong, especially with her sleeping. He tugged on the hem of her nightgown carefully, and pulled it down a little to cover her thighs a little more. _Less flesh, less temptation,_ he thought. Her eyes rolled beneath the lids, she was dreaming, her rose petal lips curled into a slight smile.

"Hope it's a good dream, chere," he leaned close, trying to ignore his agony, just so he could whisper softly to her, to breathe softly on the tip of her ear, and to see her shiver as he did so. He picked up the folded blanket from the bottom of the bed and draped it over her, covering the exposed flesh. He carefully climbed behind her to lay aside her, and although it hurt him, he raised his arm and draped it over her, he lay his cheek against the pillow, his face close enough to the soft curls of her brown and white hair so he could breathe in the scent of sweet violet leaf shampoo.

Remy pressed his body to hers, to feel some warmth from her as the room was distinctly chilly as most of the mansion seemed to be. He held her close to him and closed his eyes, and tried to drift into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5 Maybe I Won't

**Chapter 5 – Maybe I Won't?**

When Rogue awakened, she felt strangely warmer than she had in a long time in the cold bed room. She felt the warm fleecy cotton of the blanket she kept folded at the bottom of her bed but couldn't remember having pulled it over herself. The book she was reading was neither on the bed or on the floor where it should have been, but on the nightstand, and the lamp was still on, keeping the room in a warm glow in the wintery morning darkness.

When she shifted a little, she felt something heavy draped over her waist, and she looked down to see an arm across her. She leaned up a little and looked over her shoulder to see Remy LeBeau sleeping beside her, a soft snore emitting from the back of his throat. She moved, carefully, and rolled over, trying not to disturb the arm that was draped over her. He looked so peaceful that she didn't want to wake him up.

However, that's exactly what her moving did, for it jarred him, and caused him pain in the burns on his chest. He sucked in a sharp quick breath as he was stirred, and his eyes clenched tight.

"Sorry..."

"It's okay..." he whispered, "just...gimme a sec to...let it settle..." he tried to breathe the pain in and out, which was a technique he'd always tried to use when being injured in the field and needing to recover quickly. It never did any good, he supposed, but it gave him something else to focus on until he wasn't thinking so much about the pain that it held him back.

"You should be in the hospital wing."

"I hate that place," Remy uttered, "It's too...clinical and sterile."

"And it's where the injured belong," she noted.

He opened his eyes to look at her, his eyes were puffy and his lips were dry; he was in bad need of a shave, "how you sleep?" he asked.

"Like a baby," she yawned, "better than I have in a while."

Remy tried to pull her closer, she moved back.

"Remy, your wound..."

"It's gonna hurt either way," he pointed out, "why not just enjoy this?"

"Because I gotta be up in like twenty minutes to start a danger room session, and you probably have to go get that dressing changed," she pointed out.

"Lets both call in sick and spend the day together," he suggested.

"No, you need to recoup," she moved his arm gently away from her and got out of the bed, she made her way to the closet so she could retrieve her leather uniform, she shivered in the cold of the room. "God it's freezing in here."

"I can keep you warm," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"For a man with a hole in his chest, you're surprisingly upbeat today," Rogue commented.

He shrugged, but it hurt and he wished he hadn't, "can you blame me? We ain't really been together in a while..."

Rogue got the feeling when he said 'together', he meant in a more intimate way than it sounded. "I told you yesterday, Remy. Baby steps. Lets just spend some time hanging out and talking before...anything else."

"I know you, you rarely ever manage to stay away from me long," he got up from the bed slowly.

"Remy, you need to get back to the hospital wing – you shouldn't be walking around..."

"Yes, yes, Hank told me the same thing. But it boring as shit in there. I took a book to read in there but I ain't got the patience to read the damn thing. I need to be with people...not in a drug induced sleep or sitting counting the ceiling tiles."

Rogue headed towards the en-suite bathroom to get changed, he followed her in there – there being no door to keep him out. She looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, "Uhm...what do you think you're doing?"

"Tagging along in case you need some help?" he smirked.

"You're very..."

"Annoying?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yes," she replied, "go back down to the hospital wing, or I'm gonna drag you down there myself."

"No peep show then?"

"Ouuuuuuuuut!"

He pretend pouted, but left the bathroom, he went back to the bed and lay back down, making himself comfortable against her pillows – the scent of her violet shampoo was heavy on the pillows, he smiled at that.

She came back into the room moments later, her uniform on. Her uniform was an upgrade from the last he remembered, and included a corset piece with silver buckles across the front, he whistled in admiration.

"That's new."

"Yeah, it's a little tight."

"It looks...hot."

Rogue threw him a look, "how can you even be thinking of sex..."

"Hank had a theory," he shrugged.

"Oh?" she asked, she sat on the bed to pull on her boots.

He sat up slowly, carefully, "what if I told you that when I left my body...I had no sensations of anything?"

"Well...that wouldn't be hard to believe," Rogue shrugged, bending over to zip up her left boot.

Remy watched her, "and how about if I told you when I got back into my body, it rebooted all my senses?"

"I'd say...huh?" she looked over at her shoulder at him.

"Smells, sights, sounds...they're all more...vivid. Pain is more...intense..." he winced, "and my sense of touch..." he danced his fingers along her back, "all the little nerve endings in my body...oh man," he whispered.

"You're full of crap, y'know that?" Rogue smirked, she pulled on her right boot and zipped it up..

"I'm not joking," Remy made a face, "You ever had your circulation cut off where you felt nothing then when the blood rushes back, you get a huge sensation of tingling...of feeling?"

She turned and looked at him.

"Imagine that over your entire body..." he breathed, "only...it's pleasant."

"I'm sure you'll be back to normal soon enough."

"So...you're serious about baby steps then, huh?" he watched her get up, her posture changed with the heels of her black leather boots, and he admired this too. "Pity, 'cause that outfit..." he trailed off.

"Get to the hospital wing or I'm gonna drag you. Now move. I got a lot of stuff to do today..."

He got up slowly, "fine. Maybe I go take a cold shower..." he paused and glanced at her one more time before leaving the room. "Or maybe...I won't?"

She rolled her eyes. It was going to be very hard to take baby steps this time around.

_At least he's back to his old self, starting to remind me of the Remy I remember. _


	6. Chapter 6 The Good or Bad Guy

**Chapter 6 – The Good or Bad Guy**

When Remy got half way down the hall and around the corner after leaving Rogue's room he found Jessie Crowell sitting on the floor . The hall was dimly lit and she was sitting in a fluffy yellow robe and bunny slippers, long tawny hair in pigtails. She looked up at him, surprised.

"Jessie..." he said, confused. He looked around to see if anyone might be supervising her but she was definitely alone there. "What...are you doing out here at five in the morning?"

"I had a nightmare."

"Oh?"

She nodded, her large grey-blue eyes wide, her lip pouting.

He looked around again, surely someone was going to come and see to her? Rogue would be out here shortly probably after she'd brushed her teeth and arranged her hair perfectly. Rogue would know what to do, he decided. But in the meantime, he didn't quite know how he was supposed to handle this situation. He'd never really been great with children and now he felt incredibly helpless.

With a sigh, he carefully knelt down on the floor in front of her, "what was it about?"

She looked away, lip quivering. She didn't seem to have her voice anymore.

He didn't have to be telepathic to realise what she couldn't say, "oh," he said, somewhat crestfallen, although he wasn't sure exactly why. "It was about me, huh?"

"I know you can't be a bad man," Jessie said quietly after a moment, "but..."

"But I got scary eyes," Remy finished.

Her cheeks were crimson, and in the dim light his excellent eyesight picked upon it. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely a squeak. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings..."

"Well, mignon," he made himself comfortable and sat folded legged, mirroring her, "I guess my feelings shouldn't be hurt too much," he admitted, "a lot of people make fun of my eyes – even when I was your age they did."

She looked down to the floor, as if the plain dark red carpet had a fascinating pattern to focus on. "Cartoons on TV...the bad guys always have black eyes...or red eyes..." she admitted.

"So you don't know if I'm a bad guy or a good guy, huh?" he propped his elbows on his knees, hunched over a little more and made himself comfortable by resting his chin upon his fists.

Jessie shrugged. "The professor wouldn't have a bad guy in the house," she pointed out.

Remy felt she was terribly bright for her age. He'd have pegged her at least age eight or nine if it weren't for her small stature and her incredibly innocent face. When he looked at her eye to eye, she kept looking away. Whatever that dream she'd had, had obviously frightened her – either that or she was too shy to really look him straight in the eyes.

"Are you scared to look at me?"

"Maybe..." she admitted, honestly; her voice was tiny.

"Maybe...if you look at me some, you'll see I'm not so scary, hmm?" he asked softly.

Her eyes flitted to his briefly, but away again, she took a deep breath, she was trembling. He felt horribly deflated by that. How would his own daughter have reacted to his eyes, if she'd lived to see them, he wondered. Would she be the same, fearsome, unable to look right at him.

"I'm just a mutant, like you," he offered, "like Kitty, like Rogue, like Hank," he pointed out.

Jessie stood up slowly, she walked on the edge of her bunny slippers, she tilted her head a little, looking at him.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly, "I ain't gonna hurt you."

She took a few tentative steps forward, to get a better look at his eyes. The first time she'd seen them, he'd been looming over her, but she decided maybe if she were the one standing slightly taller than he was, since he was sitting on the floor, that maybe it would make him look less intimidating. She stood a foot or so from him, and she could nearly face him, having to look only slightly down.

Remy watched her, slightly fascinated. He'd not thought of himself scary to children in several years now, he usually wore sunglasses to hide his eyes if he had to go out in public. He hadn't afforded Jessie that luxury, and certainly hadn't thought of how scary he might truly seem to a child of six who seemed barely three and a half feet tall.

Jessie chewed her lip, looking at him, staring at his eyes through the long tendrils of hair that always fell over his face. With a tiny hand, she reached out to move them away from his face, sweeping his hair back from his forehead with a clumsy motion, she stared closer into his eyes, leaning in just a little to look deep in.

"You're right, they aren't so scary when you look right at them," she said after a moment.

He looked at her large stormy eyes, they seemed familiar to him, reminding him slightly of Kitty, who was always wide eyed in much the same way.

A soft footstep disturbed them both, Remy and Jessie both turned to look down the hall to see Kitty Pryde, standing watching. There was an expression on Kitty's face that Remy was unable to read, and he thought that unusual as he'd known her so long he'd thought he knew every look she gave before she could even give it.

"Jessie..." Kitty said softly, "It's five thirty-five in the morning...why are you up?"  
"I had a nightmare," Jessie chewed her lip, she looked guilty, being caught out of bed so early, she wasn't meant to be wandering around the mansion on her own, being so young and definitely unsupervised.

"Go back to bed..." Kitty said, "I'll come wake you in a few hours," she added.

Jessie nodded, and spun quickly on a Bunny-slipper clad heel, and dashed off to where here bedroom was located.

"What was that all about?" Kitty asked of Remy once Jessie as gone, and they heard a distant door close, knowing she was well out of earshot now.

"Do you think I look scary?" Remy asked, he got up slowly, wishing he hadn't got down on the floor at all now because the pain in his chest was worse when he had to push himself up.

"Uhm...what?" Kitty asked, still groggy from sleep.

"The kid...Jessie...she says I gave her a nightmare."

"Wow," Kitty said quietly, and Remy didn't understand why exactly this surprised her a lot more than it had surprised him.

"What?" Remy asked, he recognised the look on her face as concerned.

"Nothing, I just...it's not a good thing when a student is having nightmares about one of the people in the mansion, I guess," Kitty shrugged. "Why are you wandering around? Aren't you meant to be in the hospital wing anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep there, it's too...clinical," Remy answered. To avoid admitting he'd spent the night in Rogue's room – rather to avoid her having to answer any embarrassing questions rather than he himself having to – he decided to just make something up. "So I thought I'd wander a little through the mansion, get used to being here again."

"Oh," Kitty nodded, she seemed suspicious though, knowing Rogue's door was only around the corner in the hall. "So...you've met our youngest student then."

"You're taking in students as young as that now? Geez, seems...so young."

"She came from an Orphanage," Kitty answered, "Her powers manifested early and they didn't have the knowledge or the facilities to handle it...so they contacted us."

"What can she do...?"

"She absorbs electricity," Kitty answered, "which is why most of the appliances in the mansion were fitted with this little safety device thing Hank invented. She absorbs it and turns it into balls of lightning that she can throw around. I let her go off in the danger room once and throw them at targets – she's...a pretty good aim."

"What of her parents?"

"They died...in an accident...a car accident, when she was two."

"Sad," Remy admitted, "no kid that young should have to go without parents."

Kitty nodded, "I agree."

Remy shoved his hands into the pockets of the hooded top he was wearing to keep warm.

"I'm surprised she was even speaking with you...she's so shy...she barely even says two words to the professor," Kitty admitted.

He looked at her, "strange. The professor is good with kids."

"So are you...apparently."

"Huh?"

"I don't know, you seemed to have a way with her..."

"You watched the whole thing?"

"I walked out into the hall to hear you tell her to look you in the eyes so you wouldn't scare her anymore," Kitty answered. "That was a really good tactic."

"I couldn't think of anything else...the kid was shaking."

"She seems better now," Kitty folded her arms so that they rested on her large pregnant belly. "Maybe you should...I don't know...hang out with her..."

"Why would I want to hang out with a six year old?" Remy made a face. "So I can have assholes like Bobby Drake runnin' around sayin' I'm a child molester as well as a thief, a murderer and a bastard?"

"No one is going to accuse you of anything," Kitty promised. "Look, I've...I've spent over five months getting to know this kid. She doesn't make friends with the other kids, and she's shy around the adults too – and she's actually _talking_ to you. She needs exposure to more people, especially, I don't know...maybe...a male role model?" Kitty shrugged.

Remy almost laughed at this, "Role model? Are you out of your mind? Has pregnancy robbed you of your brain?"

"Maybe," Kitty smirked, "I'm told I can get pretty ditzy these days..." she looked down the the hall where Jessie had once been standing. "Look, just think about it, okay? It'd help me out a lot. I've got a lot of pregnancy preparation to make, it's two weeks 'til Christmas, I got a lot of stuff to do to help the kids arrange their transport home for the Christmas Holidays, and I can't be with Jessie twenty-four hours a day right now and she needs a lot of attention. It'd be doing me a _big_ favour."

Remy faltered.

"Besides, showing the softer side of your personality, showing how good you are with kids..." Kitty began, "might just help you win back some trust around here."

"Maybe," Remy reasoned. "I think about it, but that's the best I can do."

"Awesome," Kitty grinned.

The END (or is it?)

((Authors Note: Again I'm quite aware some things might not match up but I'm trying my best to make them match up, lol. Thanks to those who reviewed. Reviews are what keep me going when it comes to writing this story)).


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